16 - The Midnight Battle

 

Luitold followed closely behind Rudolf and Bernhart as they quietly hurried through the torchlit halls of the Guest Wing. Just as he did before the Battle of Rheinmark, Luitold felt more out of place than ever. This was a man’s conflict, and despite all he had gone through, beneath the guise of all of his rigorous training and capability, he was only just a boy. It certainly didn’t help that he was unarmed. Without a jar at hand, there was absolutely nothing he could do to defend himself, leaving him at the whims of his two sword-wielding brethren. He wasn’t even sure if he could count on both of them to protect him. Bernhart, of course, would probably fare just fine, but he had never seen Rudolf fight before. The weapon at the baron’s hip was one primarily for decoration, and while it was likely sharp enough to kill, the skill of its master was up to question. Looking back, Rudolf was willing to fight in Rheinmark before Count Varen pulled him aside, so he must have had some kind of combat experience. Even then, though, Luitold wanted to ensure he wouldn’t be left out for slaughter as soon as things got intense.

“Rudolf, how are we supposed to get Novum Verum jars?” he whispered.

“Don’t worry, I’m already leading us to them right now,” the baron replied, “There’s a closet near this part of the castle with a great deal of them inside. This may sound strange, but I was already about to head there before you two found me.”

“Why is that?” Bernhart asked.

“I have a bad habit of using it medicinally,” Rudolf said, “It helps me with my sleeplessness.”

“So now we have to worry about this sickness affecting you also?” Bernhart said.

A subtle and uncomfortable noise came from the depths of Rudolf’s throat as Bernhart’s mention of the sickness brought some kind of anguish back to his mind. He seemed to take the news quite hard when Luitold first brought up Novum Verum sickness. He made it sound like Luitold’s life was his responsibility, and by allowing him to get sick, he had failed as a guardian.

“Let’s not think about the sickness right now,” Rudolf said, “It could just be a theory for all we know.”

Not much later, Rudolf stopped at a fork in their path, with the beginning of another hallway starting to their right.

“It’s just down here,” Rudolf said.

As they turned the corner, it was revealed that this hall led to a dead end, with a closed door on its far wall surrounded by two guards. As they came near, one of them spoke.

“Password,” he said emotionlessly.

“Perception,” Rudolf replied with haste, “And don’t bother telling me it’s locked, I have the key anyway.”

The two guards stepped aside in silence, allowing Rudolf to pull a metal key from his long sleeve and twist it into a hole beneath the door’s handle. A mechanical click echoed from within, and the baron began to open the door himself. Just then, a set of loud footsteps quickly drew near the turn in the hall behind them, only to come to a complete stop as they spun around to see who it was. Behind them was another guard by himself, panting as he leaned a hand against the stone wall beside him.

“I bring orders from the Count!” he said, “Baron Rudolf, Bernhart, and the demon child Luitold have been declared threats to the castle! Abandon your positions and search for them at once!”

Luitold turned back to look at the guards by the door, only to see that they were looking directly back at them with intense stares. The one closest to Luitold reached to his hip and drew a sword.

“You shall go no further!” he yelled.

Just as he began to swing his sword down at Luitold, Bernhart stepped between them and blocked it with his own.

“Step back, Luitold,” he said calmly.

Bernhart stepped forward with all of his weight, pushing the guard into the wall as their blades struggled against each other. He then raised his leg and drove his knee into the man’s groin, causing him to keel down in pain and lose his strength, allowing Bernhart to stab him through the chest. As he withdrew his sword from his body, he and Luitold turned to see that Rudolf had already taken care of the other guard as well, who didn’t seem to be as proactive as the first in attacking. Now all that was left was the man behind them.

“I got him,” Bernhart said, stepping ahead of his companions, “You two go inside and get the jar while you have time.”

Rudolf nodded his head, making way into the dark closet, which was lit by only a single lantern sat atop a table at its center. Luitold followed closely behind. The walls of the small room were lined with tall wooden shelves, each stocked to the brim with jars of Novum Verum.

“I will be completely honest, Luitold, I’m not fully certain if these jars will work,” Rudolf said, “All of them are filled with Novum Verum crystals in their natural state, with no brimstone to speak of at all. We have no idea if the connection to the beast will still occur without having the two materials together. Everything about this is a gamble.”

“If it’s the best we’ve got, then I’ll take it,” Luitold said.

He stepped forward towards one of the shelves and reached out to the jar closest to him. As he looked into it, he saw it was indeed devoid of any brimstone. Without its yellow powder being spread across the Novum Verum’s surface, its resemblance to the crystal bark of the white tree was clearer than ever. Despite all he had learned in the past day, still nothing had explained the existence of the great tree, or the spirits that lived within it. If the events of the human realm hadn’t been so chaotic, maybe he would have liked to pay the spirits another visit to try and learn more about them, but now there were more important matters to attend to.

“I think it’ll work,” Luitold said to Rudolf, “You guys only put brimstone in the jars for my training because that’s how they were in Rheinmark, right? If Novum Verum is really what connects the two worlds, then this should do just fine, I imagine.”

“We can only hope,” Rudolf said.

The two of them walked back outside the closet to see Bernhart waiting for them at the end of the hall, his body poised to run onward. Beside him was the body of the third guard, who he likely didn’t have much trouble killing.

“If you have the jar, then let’s go,” Bernhart told them, “It’s clear they’ve gotten word from Quintus, so everyone we see from here on out is likely our enemy.”

“That seems to be the case,” Rudolf said, “Do you think Dietrich is still in the Guest Pavilion?”

“I would imagine he wouldn’t want to come back inside the keep knowing that we’re in here,” Bernhart replied, “For now, we should assume he and the princess are still there.”

Luitold and Rudolf caught up to Bernhart and continued through the hallway, passing by the guard’s dead body without much thought. It was a shame three people already had to die for this war, and it had only just begun, with countless more deaths sure to come if more guards came to pose a threat. The three of them made little effort to remain quiet at this point, moving into full sprints through the darkness. As Luitold began to sweat, he paid extra attention to the large jar in his hand, making sure his last line of defense didn’t slip from his grasp and break before it was needed.

Eventually, more light began to subtly illuminate the passage until they met a turn that led straight to the central banquet hall. The room where they once used to dine in the mornings now presented itself in the same ominous light as the hallways of the Guest Wing, with iron chandeliers exposing it from above in a yellow tinge. 

“Watch all angles, this hall has passages on every side,” Rudolf said, “An armed guard could come from anywhere.”

For the time being, not a single guard could be seen, meaning they could get through without any further obstacles.

“To get to the garden exit we just have to take the southern passage and turn at the first left,” Bernhart said, “That’ll take us directly to the pavilion.”

Luitold and Rudolf followed Bernhart through the path he suggested, returning into the darkness of the halls as their frantic footsteps echoed through the corridors. About halfway to their destination, they crossed paths with another set of two guards, who froze from their jogs and stopped in their path as they held out their swords.

“Halt!” one of them said, “You shall go no further, traitors!”

Bernhart quickly unsheathed his sword and lunged toward the guard on the right while Rudolf approached the one on the left. As Bernhart’s enemy swung at him, he strafed down and around his body, dodging the attack altogether. From there, he wrapped his arm around the guard’s neck in a chokehold and stabbed him in his upper back, causing his body to go limp and fall to the ground. Meanwhile, Rudolf and his opponent had become stuck in a fierce bind, with neither of their blades gaining any leverage over the other. With no attacker of his own left, Bernhart turned his attention to the other guard and stabbed him through the back of his stomach, leaving him to die beside his fellow man. Rudolf stepped away from the man’s bleeding body and looked up at Bernhart.

“Thanks,” he said.

“It was nothing at all,” Bernhart replied.

The three pressed on once more, Bernhart continuing to lead as they traversed the path that had become quite familiar to him in his days of guarding Agnes. Through all that had happened so far this night, Luitold was still yet to take any action, despite the jar in his hand. Now that he was back into the realm of warfare, he somehow felt even more fear than he did in Rheinmark. In the time since then he had finally found something he was afraid to lose. His life in Isenburg had been nothing but extravagant, and he was now under the protection of people he could call his family, something he hadn’t been able to say for the past two years since his mother disappeared. As Rudolf and Bernhart stood around him and fought off the guards in his defense, he couldn’t help but feel nervous for what would happen when it was time for him to break the jar. Suddenly, it felt like he was a kid again. Admittedly, a kid is absolutely what he had always been, but only now did that fact sink in. He was no longer the hardened man of war he used to be. He was human, and he was vulnerable.

A minute later, through the darkness a wooden door appeared before them. Bernhart came to a full stop, with Rudolf and Luitold quickly following suit.

“Be ready for anything,” Bernhart said, “Chances are the pavilion will be extremely protected, assuming he’s inside.”

Bernhart hesitated for a moment with his arm half stretched out through the air before finally wrapping his hand around the door’s handle and fiercely pulling it open. The chill air of the night blew against their faces as they were met with a stone path in the ground, which made a straight line through an array of boxes of garden plants. At the end of the path was the front side of the Guest Pavilion, though it did not appear as the three anticipated. Its front doors were wide open, with not a guard in sight to prevent them from entering.

“There’s something wrong about this,” Bernhart said.

“They knew we were coming and in a rush they moved somewhere else,” Rudolf replied, “They can’t have gone far, it was only five minutes ago the guards started spreading the news to one another”

Bernhart gritted his teeth in rage before calming himself down.

“Well, the grass should still be muddy from the storm,” he said, “We should see if there are any footprints.”

“And how do you expect us to do that? We can’t see a damn thing,” Rudolf replied.

“There are many lanterns in the pavilion. If we take one from there quick enough then we can have a look,” Bernhart said, “We can’t afford to waste a second.”

Without hesitation, Bernhart charged into the pavilion through its open doors.

“I suppose we could get some lights, too,” Rudolf said to Luitold before they entered the building as well.

As they walked through the small garden, Luitold again noticed drops of red blood falling on his body from above, though it seemed no one else nearby was experiencing the same thing. It was a bizarre sight. Though the blood rain was similar to that of the bestial realm, the sky appeared the same as it did in the realm of humans, and he knew for a fact he wasn’t within the bestial realm to begin with. The jar of Novum Verum was still firmly in his hand with not a crack to speak of. He chose to ignore this for now as he turned his focus to the building ahead.

As they entered, Luitold saw the luxurious interior of the Guest Pavilion for all it was described to be, though he couldn’t help but notice there were some discrepancies in its cleanliness. The area of the marble floor closest to the entrance was stained with mud from outside, and the furniture seemed to be slightly unstraightened as well, as if a group of people had rushed through without any care for the neatness of things. It was clear even to someone foreign to the world of luxury that this was unnatural. Not only did the state of the pavilion suggest a state of panic in its occupants, but also a state of disregardance and disrespect for the royalty it belonged to.

Before long, Bernhart returned from the corner of the room with three iron lanterns hung across his arms. One by one, he held them out for Luitold and Rudolf to grab.

“Alright then, let’s get looking,” Rudolf said.

Just as they turned around to the doors, however, they were stopped by a high and appalling sound. From the other side of the front wall could be heard a series of shattering glasswares, accompanied by the dropping of small shards on the ground. Bernhart drew his sword with the hand unoccupied by his lantern and held it before him.

“Who goes there?” he yelled.

Though not a thing could be seen from outside, a continuous gust of strong wind pushed through to the interior, accompanied by the pungent smell of brimstone. Luitold recognized what these senses entailed, and raised his jar to the air in response. Just then, a dark hand with sharp claw-like fingers wrapped around the edge of the doorframe. The three stood in silence until the head of the creature the hand belonged to peered from around the entrance, revealing it to have the unmistakable appearance of the beast.

“Kill it!” Bernhart cried.

The beast quickly grabbed the other side of the doorframe and catapulted itself into the room with great speed, heading straight towards Bernhart with its arms stretched forward. Bernhart raised his sword into the air and cut the beast across the middle of its head, the length of the blade just barely beating the reach of its arms. As the beast fell to the floor in a flurry of black steam, another two creatures passed through the front door behind it, their deranged faces spelling an intent to kill.

“We’ve got more!” Rudolf yelled.

Luitold realized the gravity of the situation and threw his jar at the ground. Despite its lack of brimstone, it produced the same dark cloud as the jars from the pit, which, after surrounding Luitold’s body, dissipated and left him awake in the body of his own beast, with his eyes seeing the world in its darker form.

In the few seconds that passed while Luitold was in the darkness, the two beasts had come in close range to Bernhart and Rudolf as they aggressively fought against their swords. The manic nature of these beasts suggested they weren’t in control by a human conscience, similar to how Luitold was in the Battle of Rheinmark. Even without a high degree of intelligence, a beast in its wild state had the power to kill twenty men in the heat of battle. Every second Bernhart and Rudolf were left without Luitold’s help was another second closer to death. 

From Luitold’s perspective in the bestial realm, his two companions didn’t look much different from the beasts attacking them, with their mannerisms and weapons being the only thing that distinguished them in his eyes. As soon as he figured out who was who, Luitold charged between the middle of the two duels, stretching his long arms out as he dove to the ground and wrapped them around the necks of the two wild beasts, pulling them to the floor beside him where they squirmed like tantruming children.

“Stab them while they’re down!” Luitold screamed.

Bernhart immediately took charge, lunging towards the beast closest to him and plunging his blade through its chest before dragging it down through the rest of its torso. The beast wailed as an eruption of black steam emerged from its wound, which eventually wrapped around its body in a thick cloud. Rudolf attempted to do the same to the beast on his side, though it lurched sideways and contorted its body within Luitold’s grasp to dodge the point of his blade. It then pushed itself off the ground with a great effort, shaking Luitold off its body before swiping at Rudolf with its claws. Rudolf blocked the attack with his sword, only for the beast to claw at him again with its other arm. Its hand hit the baron against the side of his face, sending him flying against the decorated marble wall beside him. As Rudolf hit the wall, he knocked over a painted portrait of King Willem and left a crack in the material behind where it hung. The baron slid down and fell weakly to the ground with a pained groan.

“Rudolf!” Bernhart cried as he turned back to see the damage.

“Damn you!” Luitold roared.

The boy rose from the ground and leapt at the beast from behind, grabbing its neck and keeping it in a chokehold as he held on to its back with his legs. The beast stumbled backward in a loss of balance before running forward towards the wall beside Rudolf and twisting its body to ram Luitold between itself and the marble. Luitold felt the wind getting knocked out of his lungs in the impact as his body compressed. Even then, he managed to maintain his grip around the beast’s neck as it continued to ram him over and over again. With each crushing blow was another painful shock through his body. In an act of desperation, Luitold moved his left hand off of the beast’s neck and clawed at its oily deformed face from behind. The beast wailed in pain, and with a sudden burst of energy, grabbed Luitold’s right arm from his neck and threw him across the room like a bag of sand. 

Luitold landed against the far wall before landing on his face, his body growing weak with exhaustion. Despite this, he knew he had fought through greater exhaustion before, not only in training, but in the years he had survived alone with no one to come home to, with no one to call a friend as he worked tirelessly in the brimstone mines for hours under the beating sun. His brothers had given him the strength to live on. It would be a shame to waste it now. 

He sensed the beast wasn’t done. As the monster dove through the air towards him, Luitold channeled every ounce of willpower he had through his body and rose to his knees, driving his pointed hand through the beast’s stomach and leaving a hole in it that passed through to the other side. Luitold came to his feet and shook the beast’s limp body from his arm as the black steam began to consume it just as it did to all of its allies. He then looked up to see Rudolf rushing towards him.

“Luitold!” he said, back on his feet, “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Luitold said gruffly, “You should be worried about yourself. You took quite the blow, too.”

“Brothers, there’s no time to chat!” Bernhart called from the front half of the room, “We’ve got another two beasts on our hands!”

Luitold turned his head to see Bernhart stepping back defensively as he parried the consecutive swipes of two beasts that came through the cramped entranceway, each as strong as the three before.

“These bastards are wasting our damn time!” Bernhart continued amidst his struggle, “Dietrich’s gonna get away if we have to fight any longer!”

“Step aside,” Rudolf told him as he entered the fight, drawing the attention of one of the two beasts, “Luitold and I will finish these two off. You take your lantern and go. We’ll catch up when we’re done.”

Luitold, agreeing with the baron’s plan, rushed to Bernhart’s side and punched the remaining beast he was fighting, pulling its focus to himself just as Rudolf did with the other.

“Go, Bernhart!” Luitold said, “You can trust us!”

Bernhart looked at Luitold with cautious eyes before quickly nodding his head and passing between the beasts to head outside. With Bernhart gone, there was an additional sense of pressure to get this fight over quickly. While Luitold felt strong enough to handle a beast by himself, he was still unsure about Rudolf, whose skills in combat seemed to only be enough when accompanied by another swordfighter. The sooner he defeated the first beast, the sooner he could help protect Rudolf.

The beast roared at Luitold in a fit of rage, exposing its set of shark-like teeth which reflected in the lantern light in contrast to its dark skin. Luitold took no time to wait for its first move as he tackled it to the ground before it could take a step forward. The beast roared again from beneath Luitold, its damp breath spreading to his face. Interrupting its primal cry, Luitold punched its face once more and grabbed it by the throat, getting up and lifting it into the air in a strangling hold. He then turned to the wall beside him and slammed the beast against it before pulling it back and slamming it again, the beast groaning with each impact. In a final act of strength, he shifted his grip to the beast’s arm and swung its body through one of the pavilion’s glass murals, sending it flying into the garden outside.

With one beast out of the way, it was now time to take care of the last, which Rudolf had been perilously fending off for the last minute by himself. When Luitold looked over to see their duel, Rudolf was in the middle of parrying a barrage of quick attacks, clearly fighting on the backfoot in his lack of physical power. Luitold sprinted to the other side of the room where they fought and grabbed the beast from behind. Holding it by its waist, he bent his body backwards and drove the beast’s head into the hard floor, leaving a large fractured dent in the marble where it hit. Luitold flipped back to his feet to see the beast laying on the ground holding its head in pain. Ahead of them, Rudolf was watching from a few feet away catching his breath.

“Good one,” he said weakly as he put a hand on his chest.

Luitold looked up at him and smiled, though he figured he probably looked terrifying from the baron’s perspective. As he expected, Rudolf grimaced in response, though his expression was quickly replaced with one far more concerned.

“Luitold, you’re steaming!” he exclaimed.

Luitold looked down at his arms and legs to see small traces of black steam emitting from the skin across his body.

“But—it’s only been a couple minutes!” Luitold replied as he began to panic, “I haven’t taken any wounds yet! This isn’t right!”

Even more concerning was the lack of steam coming from the other beast’s body. Though it seemed fairly injured, nothing had yet pierced its skin, meaning no steam would escape until the typical five minutes were up unless Luitold wounded him quickly. As the beast began to rise, Luitold hastily attempted to swipe at the beast’s abdomen, though his tired arm was quickly caught by the beast’s vigilant hand. Just then, the steam from Luitold’s body consolidated into a thick cloud and wrapped around him, surrounding him in complete darkness for the duration of a few seconds. When he reemerged, Luitold found himself in the same grip of the beast he was in before, only now he was in his weaker human form, with no hope of escaping. He stared silently into the blank eyes of the beast before him as it stared back, taking deep monstrous breaths as it studied his face.

“Help!” he wailed, “Help me!”

The beast began to open its wide jaw as it drew its face nearer to his. Its warm blood scented breath filled his nostrils as the world around him grew darker and darker, the spacious inside of the beast’s mouth obstructing the ruined interior around them. Just before it clamped down its jaw, the sound of a blade cutting through flesh sounded through the room, and a shocked gurgle came from the beast’s throat. Noticing its grip no longer held him in place, Luitold stepped back and saw the tip of Rudolf’s sword emerging from the beast’s stomach. Rudolf pulled the sword back out, leaving the beast to fall to the ground in defeat. 

“Sorry I left you hanging,” Rudolf said, “I think I may have broken something in my body.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Luitold replied, “We need to find Bernhart now.”

“I’ll try my best to ignore my injuries,” Rudolf told him, holding his chest as he winced in pain, “Let’s go.”

The two brothers made their way for the front door, finally free from the few minutes of hell they had just endured. Spread across the floor around them were the unconscious bodies of the five beasts, who had now returned to their human forms. Each was dressed in the same light chainmail as the other castle guards.

“How strange,” Rudolf said, “I’ve become quite familiar with the guards of this castle, and yet I don’t recognize a single face here.”

“Quintus said Dietrich may have brought men with him from Colgestien,” Luitold said, “Maybe he trained them while he was away training himself.”

“If they had any training with Novum Verum, it couldn’t have been anything substantial,” Rudolf replied, “Their beasts had hardly any control, like you in your first few attempts. They behaved more like animal than man.”

With their lanterns in hand, Luitold and Rudolf left the pavilion, the muddy grass of the garden now being far more visible under their lights. Quickly it became apparent which direction Dietrich’s party went, as a barrage of footsteps had been left in the dirt heading to the left. One set of tracks appeared far bolder than the others, suggesting they may have belonged to Bernhart as he left the pavilion more recently.

“Here it is,” Luitold said as he held his lantern out in front of him, “Are you ready?”

“Being ready is our only option,” Rudolf said, “There’s no telling what Bernhart might be up against right now. As brothers we are obliged to lend him our aid.”

Luitold looked at Rudolf with an affirming nod of his head.

“You’re right,” he said.

The two started following the tracks, both walking as fast as they could with their tired and injured bodies. As their lanterns illuminated the path further, the footprints ahead of them dwindled until only four sets of steps remained. Looking back, half of the markings in the dirt were facing the opposite direction, meaning about four or five people in the party turned at this point and returned to the pavilion.

“Are you seeing this, Luitold?” Rudolf asked, “Over half of the men turned back here. Only four people have gone ahead from this point, and I would guess one of them has to be Bernhart.”

“Maybe the ones who turned back were the beasts that attacked us,” Luitold said, “It looks like they all started heading this way before Dietrich ordered them to stay back. They probably knew we would look in the pavilion first and tried to trap us.”

“You might be right,” Rudolf said, continuing to speedily limp his way forward, “It looks like these prints go in the direction of the stables by the castle’s south gates. If the remaining three tracks belong to Dietrich, Agnes, and another guard, we may not have much time to catch them before they flee, perhaps for the capital.”

Suddenly, a voice emerged from the blackness of the night above.

“If it’s me you’re after, I’m afraid you’re looking in the wrong place,” the voice said.

Luitold and Rudolf stopped in their tracks, kicking up wet dirt in front of them as they looked up in the voice’s direction. From its origin, the light of a small lantern emerged from behind the railing of a balcony, revealing the face of none other than Count Dietrich. It was the first time Luitold had seen his face since his time away, and even through the obscurity of the light he could tell he would no longer see the man in the same way he did before. Something about his face was inhuman, like it was merely human flesh stretched over a non-living canvas. His eyes were an empty void, unable to be read for any trace of empathy or benevolence.

“Dietrich!” Rudolf yelled, “Just what are you doing up there?”

“I realized there’s little reason to rush my departure now that I know how little of a threat you pose to me,” he spoke with a smile and cadence that masked his inner evil, “The beasts bought us enough time to have Agnes sent away to the capital. I can catch up with her once I know you’re both dead. Your dear friend Bernhart has already met his fate, so I doubt there’s much hope left for your little rebellion.”

“No!” Luitold screamed, “You’re lying!”

“Oh, but what I tell you is quite true!” Dietrich said from above, “The men he once fought and trained beside cornered him and bled him without a challenge. I’d say it was a fate quite becoming of a traitor like him.”

“Luitold, don’t listen to him!” Rudolf said, diverting the boy’s attention away from the Count, “Bernhart’s only been away for a short time. If Dietrich is already in the higher floors of the keep, there’s no way he could know what happened to him so soon!”

“But what if he does?” Luitold snapped back, tears forming at his eyes as his voice began to break, “What if he’s right, and everything’s already over?”

“Luitold, stop!” Rudolf said, “He’s distracting us!”

“Bernhart was killed only a stone’s throw ahead of where you stand,” the Count said, “It can’t have been more than a few minutes ago. The ambush only lasted a couple of seconds and he was dead on the ground. I saw it all with my own eyes from above. Such a shameful death for a man with so much talent.”

Dietrich’s account seemed to be enough to sway even Rudolf, who looked back up at him with newfound despair in his eyes.

“The only way to avenge your friend now is to come to my private quarters and face me yourselves,” he continued, “I have a new power I’d like to show you. I think it would be a great honor for you to be the first to die at my hands.”

“Your hands are already stained in the blood of hundreds,” Rudolf remarked, “It matters not if you murdered them yourself. You are the worst man I’ve ever known, Dietrich, and we will make sure to kill you as soon as we arrive.”

“So be it then,” the Count said as he turned away from the balcony’s edge. “I’ll be waiting.”

Dietrich walked back through the doorway behind him, leaving Luitold and Rudolf alone in the darkness of the night once more, accompanied by nothing other than the glow of their lanterns, which had begun to irritate Luitold’s eyes as he relied on it to move around.

“What now?” Luitold asked as he turned to his brother.

“You heard him,” Rudolf said, “We’ll enter the keep and challenge him on our own.”

“How are we supposed to get to his level without the guards killing us first?” Luitold replied, “You’re hurt and I don’t have any more Novum Verum to use.”

“There’s another side entrance nearby,” Rudolf told him, “I can route us back to the jar closet and then we’ll make our way to his quarters from there.”

Thinking about the jars again made Luitold realize it was still raining blood. Though previously it had felt like more of a light shower, now the blood was pouring on to his body in heavy drops, just as it did when he was in his beast form. Now the only things distinguishing the bestial realm from the natural one were its glowing red sky and many roaming beasts. Again, he could tell it was only he who could see this, since otherwise Rudolf or Bernhart would have made a comment already. As the thick drops hit his skin, he wondered if what Quintus said about the sickness was true. If he had only weeks to live when they talked earlier, would his life get even shorter with each use of the beast’s power?

Rudolf led himself and Luitold to a small unornamented door tucked into a corner of the keep’s exterior. With his sword drawn, the baron grasped its handle before aggressively pulling it open, anticipating a surprise attack from inside. To his surprise, however, there was not a guard in sight throughout the hallway visible within. Of what he believed to be about twenty guards employed by the castle, already five had been killed that night, with another five from the pavilion being taken down in their battle, though they didn’t seem to be part of Isenburg’s typical staff. That left fifteen guards and five knights on the castle grounds that stood between the two remaining rebels and Dietrich.

The two cautiously made their way inside, walking as lightly as possible across the cobblestone floor. Wandering through multiple turns in the hallway, they still were not met with a single guard or any knight. It was as if the whole keep was silently asleep, like nothing had happened at all on this fateful night. For the little time that it lasted, Luitold found much pleasure in the comforts of Isenburg Castle. It was a shame this chapter of his life would be coming to an end so soon, and whatever waited for him beyond it was still unknown in whatever cruelties it may have held. 

In the foreboding silence of the halls, Luitold realised what it was he truly loved most about the castle. It wasn’t the delicious meals or the cozy beds, it was the people. After so much time isolated from the comfort of a family, not only did Luitold find himself within a tight-knit band of brethren, but also a greater community that the castle provided. Everywhere he looked was another person. A cook, a maid, a guard—no matter who it was, it was at the very least another friendly face. Now, all the unarmed staff had vanished, likely told to flee or lock themselves in their barracks, all because they were scared of Luitold, someone who meant them no harm, all because they didn’t know the truth. Everyone that remained was there with the sole purpose of ending his life, and yet even they failed to appear. 

As Luitold and Rudolf finally reached the same supply closet as before, they were met with the sight of the same three guards they had killed earlier that night. They laid on the cold floor in the same positions they were in when they died. It was ironic how the most living thing left in the castle were the bodies of the dead. Looking down at them, Luitold couldn’t help but yearn for what his life was only a few hours beforehand. Even fifteen minutes prior his life couldn’t have felt more different. Those fifteen minutes were all it took for the gravity of this battle to sink in. Now he couldn’t even be sure if Bernhart was alive as he and his only ally left marched into the face of death with beaten bodies and broken spirits.

“Go ahead, Luitold,” Rudolf said, “Grab another jar and then we’ll be off.”

Without a word, Luitold headed into the dark closet and retrieved another cold glass jar from within. The one he used in the pavilion seemed to only last for half as long as a jar with brimstone in it, meaning he would have to be extremely careful with when he chose to use it. Though he was unsure of how competent Dietrich had become in his beast form, ultimately he knew that without Bernhart he was the only hope left in defeating him, with Rudolf’s injuries only adding to the liability that was his amateur swordsmanship.

“You’re not worried about me getting sick?” Luitold replied as he reemerged from the small room.

“I am, Luitold,” Rudolf told him, “But this is all we have. If everything goes as planned, this will be the last time you have to use that power. I promise.”

The two of them continued walking through the silent halls, the absence of any guards becoming so accepted in their minds that they ceased their attempts at stealthiness.

“I know you don’t want to hear this, but I think I’m already ill,” Luitold said after a minute of silence.

Rudolf turned his neck down to face Luitold, his eyes becoming more intense.

“What? Why? What is it you’ve been feeling?” he asked in a panicked voice.

“It hasn’t been raining this past hour, right?” Luitold asked calmly.

“Why, no, the storm ended a little while ago,” Rudolf replied, seeming confused by his question.

“For me, the rain never stopped,” Luitold said, “And it’s not normal rain, it’s blood. The same blood that comes from the sky in the bestial realm. My two worlds are combining, just like what the alchemist said.”

Rudolf abruptly stopped in his tracks, his shoes skidding against the floor. Luitold noticed the lack of footsteps beside him and stopped as well, turning to face Rudolf without looking him in the eyes.

“Luitold! I—”

“I’m not afraid of dying,” Luitold continued, “I feel like I should be scared but I’m not. I don’t know how bad death really is, or if it’s bad at all. I don’t really know how bad life is, either, or how good it is. It’s like things just happen and I go along with them. I don’t know what it’s like to live, the way people like you live, where you make choices and have ideas and think for yourself. I wonder, since I’m already not living, if a life will be lost when I die, or if it’ll just be like I never existed.”

“Luitold!” Rudolf yelled, “What the hell is wrong with you?”

The baron struck Luitold in the face with the backside of his hand, using only enough force to disturb him without causing any serious harm. Luitold’s eyes opened wide as a stinging feeling began to radiate from his cheek.

“Never say something like that to me again, or to anyone for that matter!” Rudolf said, “Is what I do not enough for you? I’ll have you know I made a promise to your mother!”

“Mother?” Luitold asked drearily.

Rudolf looked away with his neck turned aside. His eyelids were firmly shut in pain, his lips tightly pursed as if he needed to carefully control the words which came out of his mouth.

“We used to be good friends, her and I,” he said, “She used to tell me things about you before she went missing. I could tell you meant a lot to her, and she gave you everything she could while she was still around. When I met you again in Rheinmark, I thought of her again, and I made a promise to her that I would protect you to the best of my ability. When you say you don’t care about your life, I can only imagine what your mother would think of it. You deserve to live a happy and long life just like anyone else does. She would say the same thing.”

“Okay,” Luitold mumbled, “Let’s get going.”

Though everything he said to Rudolf was true, there was admittedly some nuance to it all. It was true that he felt devoid of agency and free will, and that he was experiencing his life in a passive, distant manner. Despite that, with Rudolf and Bernhart at his side, he felt that had begun to change, even if it was only by a small margin. Behind his troubled eyes there laid genuine gratitude for the both of them, though it was something difficult for him to put into words. He decided that on this night he would choose to show his gratitude through his actions and kill Dietrich, allowing him to figure out the rest of his life when all of this was over. All he needed was one more act of bravery and the good life would be waiting for him on the other side.

Luitold and Rudolf continued down the path they had taken from the closet the first time around, routing them back into the banquet hall just as they had seen before. Still, it was completely empty, with no hints of life nearby.

“There’s a staircase at the end of the hall on the opposite side,” Rudolf said as they entered the large room, “Dietrich’s quarters won’t be far beyond there.”

Increasing their pace as Rudolf seemed to adjust to the pain in his body, the two walked through the far hallway just as he had described. It wasn’t nearly as long as the passage they had just emerged from, with the staircase at its end being immediately visible as soon as they entered. The stairway itself was cold and damp, with no lighting or decorations fixed to the walls around it. The stairs came to a small landing after the first ten steps before turning around and leading to another landing on the other side. This continued until the stairs finally ended at the crest of the top floor, where one final hallway remained. It was in stark contrast to the rest of the castle, with embroidered red carpet lining the floor and paintings of Isenburg’s previous rulers hung against the walls. It was hard to imagine where this long hall fit into the castle from an outside glance, with the lack of windows not giving much aid in picturing the relative position of it from within. Even then, the elevation of the space could be felt. At the very end of the hall stood a grand double door, with the Count’s private quarters hidden behind.

Before they could reach the doors, however, one last obstacle stood before Luitold and Rudolf. Stationed at the middle of the hall were three guards side by side, each with a sword in hand.

“Stand back, Luitold. I’ve got this,” Rudolf said as he reached for his blade.

“No,” Luitold replied firmly, stepping in front of the baron, “You’ve done enough today. Let me and the beast handle this before you hurt yourself even more.”

“You will go no further!” the middle guard yelled.

As the three men began rushing toward them, Luitold raised his jar into the air and threw it at the ground with confidence. In a routine he had come to know all too well, a cloud of smoke rose from within and surrounded Luitold’s body with immense speed, before quickly unwrapping itself and revealing him to the men as the creature from hell they had feared him to be. Opening his eyes into the dark air of the bestial realm, Luitold stood his ground against the three guards, poising himself for action with his knees bent and arms held ahead of him. 

The closest of the guards rose his sword into the air, preparing to plunge it into Luitold’s chest. Just as he began his attack, Luitold ducked down to the man’s legs and grabbed him by the ankles, swinging him against the guard to his left as they collided against the stone wall beside them, shattering the frame of one of its many paintings. Knowing the third and final guard was lurking behind him, Luitold quickly pivoted around and strafed past the man’s sword just as it swung down at his body. From there, he clawed at the man’s torso, leaving a bloody slash that cut through his chainmail. Paralyzed with pain, the man fell to the ground with a loud grunt. With the three of them defeated, Luitold looked back at Rudolf to assure that he was unharmed, and thankfully, none of the guards had been able to lay a scratch on him.

“Now, let’s go!” Luitold said, “This form won’t last for long. We need to kill Dietrich before I turn back!”

“Right,” Rudolf replied.

Luitold rushed for the double doors with Rudolf following closely behind. With every second draining the power of the beast even further, he couldn’t help but feel the hallway stretched on for eternity, with Dietrich’s quarters being infinitely far away. In truth, they reached the doors in a matter of seconds. Rudolf caught up and stood beside Luitold at the end of the hall. With each of them placing a hand on one of the two handles, the brothers exchanged glances and nodded at one another before opening the doors wide and bracing themselves for what laid within.

Unlike the ornate hallway preceding it, Dietrich’s quarters were dark and practical, more akin to the rest of the castle beneath. At the far end of the room was a large bed surrounded by a canopy of dark red drapes. Encasing the walls of the room at each side were a series of tall bookshelves, each filled to the brim with generations worth of knowledge. Aside from a couple of desks and tables, however, that was the full extent of the room’s glory, a far cry from the interior of the Guest Pavilion even in its ravaged state. 

Most importantly, the room was home to Dietrich himself, who patiently sat at the edge of the bed tapping his fingers against its wooden frame.

“So you came,” Dietrich said calmly with a blank expression.

“You can spare us the formalities, Dietrich,” Rudolf replied from across the room, “This day marks your death.”

With no time to waste on conversation, Luitold charged forward at the Count, leaping into the air as he came near. Just as he reached the crest of his jump, however, Dietrich rose to his feet and drew his sword from his hip at a methodical pace. Before Luitold could reach him, Dietrich pointed the weapon into the air, forcing Luitold to fall onto its tip which pierced him directly through his stomach. Luitold choked in pain as steam began to billow out of his wound in droves. He remained suspended by the sword’s edge as Dietrich held him above the ground, looking at him with an amused smirk.

“It appears your haste will be your undoing, boy,” he said, “Now allow me to finish this before you make any more of a mess.”

With his right hand holding up the sword, Dietrich reached behind him with his left as he turned his neck to look back at the bed. As his legs dangled helplessly in the air, Luitold’s body was sliding further down the sword, serrating his organs like a saw on wood until he made contact with the hilt. Not only was he in intense pain, but also with the steam escaping his body he knew his beast form would be ending before its normal time limit. If he turned back into a human now, the sword would pierce his normal body too, killing him permanently. With his instincts taking the helm, Luitold mustered every remaining drop of strength left in his body and reached for the Count’s right hand, which remained gripped tightly on the sword. Before Dietrich could grab whatever he was reaching for behind him, Luitold squeezed his wrist between the points of his five fingers and drove them into his skin as tightly as possible. The Count screamed in pain, turning back around to see the beast’s claws tunneling down to his bones. He reflexively dropped the sword, causing Luitold to fall to the ground with it still entrenched in his stomach. Despite breaking free, Luitold maintained his grip on the Count’s wrist, tearing off his hand in a bloody mess as he fell. Dietrich screamed again, holding the end of his forearm in pain where his right hand once began.

“Damn you!” He cried as he fell to his knees.

With his vision growing blurrier, Luitold pulled the sword out from his stomach and threw it against the far wall of the room where no one could reach it, the hand that once gripped it falling limply to the floor. The black steam from his wound funneled out even faster now that it had been opened as it began to concentrate into a thick swirling cloud around the lower half of his body. 

Quickly, Dietrich crawled back to his feet and reached back towards the bed behind him, retrieving a Novum Verum jar of his own. Just as he raised it into the air to throw, Luitold made a final effort and sprung into the air, jumping over the Count’s head and grabbing the jar for himself as the steam surrounded him. By the time he landed and rolled onto the bed, he had returned to his human state, with no trace of the black cloud to be seen. His muscles were tired and aching, with the pain and exhaustion that the beast felt transferring to his normal body despite receiving none of the physical damage that had caused it.

Despite the immense pain surging through him, Luitold knew this battle wasn’t over until Dietrich was dead on the ground. Now possessing the jar that once belonged to the Count, he held it up above his head, preparing to become the beast once more and end it all. Dietrich turned around to see Luitold standing over him from atop the bed. Still afflicted by the pain of losing his arm, he fell to the ground and cowered beneath him. 

“Wait! Wait!” the Count pleaded, holding his remaining hand out before him, “I’m not your enemy, Luitold. There are things I know that no one has told you. I can tell it all.”

The Count’s expression was grim and desperate, a state of being Luitold had never seen him in before, with his cool and friendly demeanor being what he had recognized him for prior to his return.

“I don’t need anything from you,” Luitold said, “You killed Bernhart.”

Dietrich’s mouth twisted into something between a smile and a grimace.

“Do you want to know what happened to your mother?” he asked.

“What?” Luitold snapped back, “You don’t know a damn thing about my mother, you bastard! Keep her name out of your foul mouth!”

“They said it was a disappearance, didn’t they?” Dietrich said, “The folks at Holzstadt. I suppose maybe they didn’t mean to lie. It was only the orders of their lord.”

“What are you talking about?” Luitold screamed.

“Two summers ago,” Dietrich continued, “Quintus and I were developing weaponized Novum Verum. We chose to invite your good friend Rudolf, and told him to bring subjects from back home for us to test our materials on. He chose to bring your mother. Elisabeth was her name if I recall.”

“What are you saying?” Luitold asked.

“He volunteered her to be one of the first test subjects,” the Count said, “In the alchemy lab, we watched her writhe in fear as the brimstone influenced her mind. She was killed by a creature that didn't even exist, and it was all thanks to him.”

“No!” Luitold screamed, “You’re lying! You’re a liar!”

Dietrich laughed with his eyebrows tightly furrowed.

“Rudolf’s never been one to tell his secrets,” he said, “It would have been inconvenient if you knew he was responsible for her death. He still needed to keep you on a leash to get on my good side. Let me tell you, I may have my ambitions, but so does he. I can see right through him. He’s been plotting this rebellion for a while, Luitold. He doesn’t care what happens to the royal family, he just wants to get out of Holzstadt. He’ll do anything to get his people out of there, even if it means killing a few of them to do it.”

“Rudolf!” Luitold yelled, “He’s lying right? That’s not true!”

Rudolf stared back at him with gritted teeth and shiny welling eyes. He looked to the ground before he spoke.

“Luitold,” he said, “I’m sorry. It’s my fault.”

“No! What do you mean? You didn’t do anything wrong! You don’t have to listen to him!” Luitold cried.

Rudolf burst into tears, unleashing a scream that tore through his throat.

“I killed her!” he said, “It’s my fault, Luitold! I couldn’t tell you!”

Luitold stared back silently, his eyes opening wide and his jaw going limp. 

“I didn’t want to think about it…” the baron sniffled as he laid his hand over the side of his face.

“No! That doesn’t make sense!” Luitold said.

“I’m telling you I did it!” Rudolf snapped back. He looked back up at him, his eyes puffy and red with streaks of tears flowing down his face as he breathed heavily.

“He admits it himself, Luitold,” Dietrich said from below, “Imagine where you’d be right now if your mother was still around. You could have had such a great life, boy. And now you’re dying from the same material that killed her. Just how would she feel if she knew?”

Rudolf looked down again and shook his head. He reached back for the double doors behind him and grabbed one of the handles, quickly slipping outside without another word. The lefthand door slammed shut behind him, leaving a thud that echoed through the tall chamber.

The baron’s footsteps grew fainter on the other side as he ran off through the hall. Luitold remained still standing atop the Count’s bed, his fingers trembling around the cold jar. Everything he had grown to hate about this world, everything that had been taken away from him, did it all stem back to Rudolf? After all this time he spent gaining his trust, was the baron only using him, hiding his true nature just to keep him as a tool? 

And Mother. If she had been so close with Rudolf, why would he kill her? Was he truly that wicked? This whole time, Luitold had merely been following Rudolf’s orders, trusting his guidance and taking his words at face value. He should have known something was wrong. This wasn’t the first time he hid something from him either. He hid the truth of Novum Verum from him too, brushing it aside when he and Bernhart confronted him about it. This time, however, the baron’s omission could not be so easily forgiven.

“Running away like a child caught misbehaving,” Dietrich groaned through his pain, “He wants to escape the consequences of his actions. It’s the only thing he’s ever done.”

The Count’s words only made Luitold more enraged. He thought back to the final day he had seen his mother, his long repressed memories flooding back to him in the heat of the moment. She told him she was leaving town for a few days to see a magic show in Isenburg. She and a few others from the castle staff were invited by Rudolf. She promised to tell him all about it when she returned. Eventually, three days became ten, and a nameless guard from the baron’s castle came to tell him that Elisabeth and the others were attacked in the woods as they camped during their travels, with Rudolf himself being the only survivor. The man gave him his condolences, but offered nothing in the form of help or support, and nothing was said from the baron himself, who remained distant from Luitold until the war began.

That bastard had never cared about him, he only kept him close because he felt pity, or because he wanted to shield himself from his guilt. Luitold would get his revenge for his mother’s death. There was no questioning it. He would kill Rudolf for her sake.

With a cry of war, Luitold smashed the jar in his hand down at the edge of the bedframe he stood upon, sending shards of glass around the room which nearly stabbed the Count beneath him. Once again, a cloud of black smoke surrounded his body in darkness, and he awoke in the bestial realm, where he would finally settle this betrayal.